Of Photos and Dreams
by sherlockian4evr
Summary: During a visit to the Holmeses, Sherlock wonders if there are old photos of his sister and his childhood friend. Beta read by Sherlock1110.


Sherlock watched his parents fussing over Rosie as John regaled them with stories of her antics. It was a lovely picture, set as it was in the Holmeses living room. The detective's eyes drifted over to where several old family photos sat on a shelf. All at once, he wondered if there had ever been photos of Eurus or even Victor.

"Yes, little brother, there were photos," Mycroft said as he walked over to stand by his brother. "Once you started to forget, though..." The government official shifted awkwardly. "Would you like to see them?"

Disbelieving, Sherlock nodded. "You kept them?"

"She's our sister, Sherlock. I kept them." Mycroft sighed. "And I kept the ones of Victor, in case you ever remembered and asked about him."

"Show them to me. I want to see them. My memories of Eurus and Victor are shadowed, fragmented." Sherlock brought his hand up to press at his temple. "It doesn't matter how hard I try, I can't seem to bring them into focus."

"They're in my room." Mycroft turned and headed from the room, his brother in tow. When they reached his room, the government official crossed over to a shelf. He removed several dusty books of a political nature and pulled out an old shoebox. "I hid them in relatively plain sight knowing you would snoop and find them otherwise."

Ignoring the comment on his snooping, Sherlock smiled. "You're right. Those books are boring. I never would have touched them." He reached his hand out towards the shoebox, hesitating. At his brother's encouraging nod, he finally took it.

Sitting on the edge of Mycroft's bed, Sherlock opened the box. The first photo he drew out was of his sister. She looked almost normal, her hair in ponytails and a semblance of a smile on her face. "She must have been taught how to smile. She never would have done it otherwise."

"That's right," Mycroft said, taking the photo from his brother. "She mastered it as a mechanical process. You can tell there's no real emotion behind it."

The next photo the detective drew out of the box was of himself and another little boy. He knew that the little boy was Victor immediately. Victor matched the shady images that he could recall of him. "We were playing pirates, just like you said we did." His hand shook as he looked at the two boys climbing a rock together, toy swords in hand.

"Ah, yes. I remember when this photo was taken. It was on your birthday. The pirate hat, eye patch and swords were your favourite birthday presents." The government official smiled in bittersweet remembrance. "You were a good lad. You shared your toys with Victor even though they were brand new.'

They went through photo after photo together for some time, Mycroft occasionally putting them in context for his brother. After a while, the government official made a confession. "I have nightmares, you know."

Sherlock's hand froze halfway to lifting another photo. "It's understandable after what happened at Sherrinford."

"No, it's not that," Mycroft declared. "I've had this nightmare for years. It started the first time you called yourself a sociopath. I.. The dream is always the same. I'm walking through a corridor at Sherrinford. I stop outside a door. When it opens, I expect to see Eurus in her prison, but I don't. Instead..."

"You see me," Sherlock finished for him.

"Yes." Mycroft stood. "After you shot Magnussen, I thought my nightmare would come true, that my superiors would insist you be confined there."

"It would have driven me mad," the detective stated. "I wouldn't have lasted a year."

"I know. That's why I argued for you to be sent on that mission. I knew you wouldn't survive, but at least you wouldn't be driven mad first. And there was always the chance that you would survive, slim though it might have been." Mycroft swallowed hard. "It was the best I could do."

Sherlock had to clear a lump from his throat. "Thank you. I didn't know."

"You weren't meant to." Mycroft shrugged. "I never wanted you to be hurt."

"I know that now. I understand." The detective lifted another photo from the box. It was a photo of Mycroft and Sherlock rough housing with Victor trying to help his friend. "Look at you, Myc, you're laughing. I haven't seen you laugh in years. I think it's time for that to change, don't you? You don't have to hide secrets from any of us anymore." He looked into Mycroft's eyes. "We can just be a family again."

Mycroft's eyes stung. "I think I would like that, brother mine. I would like that very much."


End file.
